Beauty and the Beast
by mae.linda
Summary: InProgress Things really aren't as they seem in fairytales. However they are better faced together. BillPansy
1. Chapter 1

Thank you for your patience and wonderful reviews, i have re-worked the first two chapters which are now only one and will begin to post the rest of the story very soon.

New Year's was fast approaching and Bill Weasley was morosely wandering through the thinning crowds in Diagon Alley

New Year's was fast approaching and Bill Weasley was morosely wandering through the thinning crowds in Diagon Alley. His head was bowed and snow was gently settling on his head and broad shoulders, His hands were stuffed in the pockets of his dragonhide coat. The snow was marked deeply by his dragonhide boots. It was already dark and soon it will be very late, Even though the war had been over for two years and all the Death Eaters accounted for, it wasn't a good idea to be out at this hour. Bill wasn't worried though, the rest of the world feared him most of all, so his chances of being mugged or worse were slim to none. The wry grin that though engendered was at odds with the sadness in brown eyes.

Life had been good for the eldest Weasley brother but since normality had been reinstated for the world at large things had started to fall apart for Bill. Several things, to be precise: his marriage, his job and his attitude. He was still the coolest older brother, he still worked with the Gringott goblins, they didn't care he was touched by Lycanthropy. But Fleur had left him almost two years ago. The war had made every moment count for them, and they had fought and won and rejoiced. But Bill's reactions were no longer normal and Fleur decided she could not deal with it. She was appropriately apologetic and sad and tearful but she still left him.

It took him a whole year to understand and forgive and forget. And there had been a lot to forgive and forget. First was ever getting clawed by that monster. He had forgiven the lost boy that Malfoy had been. After all, he had endeavored to find a cure for Lycanthropy and surprisingly had managed to do so. Remus Lupin's life had been changed forever because of it. Bill's wasn't he was not a proper werewolf after all. He could never forgive Greyback but he had made peace with his condition when he managed to finish that monster off. The grim satisfaction helped sometimes, especially when he needed to be reminded of what he had to be grateful for. In the end he even forgave himself for driving his ex-wife from him. Because he admitted, even if only to himself, that he had been possessive, and domineering and extremely jealous.

So Bill had made his peace with himself and was able to feel grateful. Grateful, that he was alive and that his family and friends had survived the war. Grateful, that his marriage, while it lasted, had been good. He was healthy, mostly controlled and as successful as he had any chance of being. He had hated how stifling his job was recently and had taken a holiday to get his priorities straight. Instead of that, he had gotten bored out of his mind in his small apartment in the Wizarding side of London. After spending two hours staring at the book on Curse-breaking in his lap he had decided to stretch his legs in nearby Diagon Alley.

So here he was, watching his boots making footprints in the snow, lost in his maudlin thoughts, wandering around in the dark and, apparently, bumping into innocent bystanders and sending them sprawling. He bent down, with a muttered apology, to help whoever he had accidentally run into and found himself drowning in eyes that looked like black pools. Well, pools, that were currently glinting with irritation but that was to be expected. The witch in front of him, once she had allowed him to gallantly help her up, was petite and slender. Her hair was in a high ponytail and her face radiated shrewdness, the overall look making her look like a black vixen.

"Do watch were you're going, will you, Weasley?" she commented while brushing herself off. By her drawl Bill supposed she was a Pureblood and by her manner quite possibly a Slytherin. A wisp of a memory tugged at him and he suddenly remembered. She had been a Slytherin, one of the few brave enough to follow Draco Malfoy when joining the Order. Their help, from within Voldemort's inner circle, had been invaluable. The entire Order had insisted and obtained Orders of Merlin First Class for each Slytherin in turn. She had been average looking then; perhaps too much makeup and the sneering certainly hadn't helped. But she seemed to have grown, and if her manners hadn't improved at least her looks had.

Bill looked admiringly up and down her figure, as discreetly and as swiftly as possible before addressing her in his best courteous manner, "I am very sorry, it was entirely my fault. I wasn't paying attention to where I was going. Are you alright Miss Parkinson?"

She blushed prettily but then just turned up her nose; Bill supposed it was to hide her previous reaction.

"A Weasley with manners, has hell frozen over? No, I am not fine. But I will be as soon as get home" she drawled then began to gather the parcels she had dropped. Calculating brown eyes considered the situation. He had nothing to do, and if she was carrying those parcels herself then she was more that likely uninvolved at the moment.

So he bent and helped her gather the parcels before taking the lot out of her unresisting hands. At her questioning look he just shrugged and offered, "The least I can do is help with your shopping. After all, it was my carelessness that caused you to drop them in the first place."

She gave him a searching look before twirling around and marching toward the Leaky Cauldron to Floo home. Bill mused, with a hint of irony, as he moved to follow her that there were worst ways to spend an evening that following a beautiful woman around like a faithful puppy.

The Floo deposited them in average sized apartment however what it lacked in dimensions it made up in the elegant furnishings. Unfortunately said furnishings were covered in various items that had made up, probably not long ago, a successful party. Elegant ashtrays were strewn everywhere, half full and alongside them, at a safe distance, the prerequisite trays of finger foods, also half full. Glasses of all shapes and sizes were the predominant element all around. Some were on the various tables, under chairs and if Bill saw correctly there was even one upside down on the candelabra.

Ms Parkinson seemed unconcerned with the mess and simply headed toward the equally messy kitchen. Five minutes later Bill was no longer wondering at his host's nonchalance. After she had supervised the depositing of his burden on the kitchen counter, she had simply whipped her wand out and began casting. Bill could just stare as everything seemed to sort itself out quickly and obediently. The lady of the house was quite clearly extremely talented with a wand. No pun intended, of course, although that was a thought.

After making sure everything was as it should be, Pansy Parkinson, heiress to the Parkinson fortune and cosmetic manufacturer extraordinaire simply turned to him and asked in a perfectly serious tone, as if they were old friends  
"Tea, Mr. Weasley? Or would you prefer something stronger after the chill outside?"  
Bill could only blink but noticing his host's increasingly more annoyed expression he quickly answered, "Thank you, tea would be lovely, with a drop of Firewhiskey in it if possible. And please call me Bill, my father is Mr. Weasley."  
"And you may call me Pansy if you wish. Have you eaten?"

Not waiting for a response she began to collect some ingredients and in no time, they were enjoying a plate of delicious sandwiches. Finishing his first sandwich Bill wrapped his hands around his mug of strong tea and sipped at it. He sighed as it warmed him from the inside out, the sweetness lingering on his tongue pleasantly.

He resumed eating after Pansy shot him a warning look. Surprisingly it reminded him of his mum. But he though it would be best not to mention that to Pansy. As they set about finishing the sandwiches, the talked about all the inconsequential things strangers usually talk about. The rubbish that the Daily Prophet was, how bad the new Minister was at his job, the new apothecary in Hogsmade that just opened. As they moved to the living room they continued chatting about their respective jobs.

They were both shocked, pleasantly so, by the similarities in their lives. They had both began their careers in jobs they were very good at. They were both now bored with said jobs but didn't have a clue what else to do.  
They had both married young, with people they had though perfect for themselves only to end in divorce. Pansy's divorce had caused quite a scandal, even though neither party ever gave the press any interviews. It came as a surprise that Bill's divorce had passed without a fuss.

"It was only because it happened right after the Final Battle, Pansy. There were very little subjects more important or even equally important than that. In a way I'm glad it happened then, less fuss than it could've been. And I don't mean just the press. We could have had children and my mum would have never recovered if she'd lost her grandchildren. The weird thing is I had thought we were stronger because of what we'd gone through with the war. Apparently not."

A prolonged silence ensued when Bill stopped talking. He stared into the fire, not really thinking about much. He could feel Pansy's assessing gaze on him and after a while turned to find her looking pensive into her empty mug.  
"So, How come you and the Malfoy split up? I'm sorry, it's really none of my business . . ."  
"You're right, Bill" she smiled "it isn't any of your business but if you really want to know, I left him".  
"Why? I mean he is handsome, rich and . . ."  
"Yes, well, all beauty is flawed anyway but the real reason is that he is gayer that I am"

It took a moment for that to sink in, before Bill burst out laughing. There was one thing he hadn't counted on, and that was the wench having sense of humor. Problem was she wasn't laughing, since smirking doesn't count.

But apparently neither was she kidding, which would mean Draco would be the last Malfoy. And weren't the Malfoy ancestors spinning in their graves right now? Or, and this would be even funnier, she had finally had enough of spending less money on clothes than her husband did. He could see it in his mind's eye so clearly that he was sure his face would have a permanent grin from now on. Course, there was nothing wrong with being gay, but the way she'd phrased it had his mind playing scenario after scenarios of female indignation.

It was well past one in the morning when they realized the time. It had begun to snow outside again and it was working itself into a snowstorm. Not the kind of weather you would send a puppy outside, clearly. As Bill scrambled to grab his coat, a small hand landed on his arm. He looked up into Pansy's face to see an amused smile there, "Whatever makes you think I'd let you leave in this awful weather I really don't want to know. It's late, so why don't you just crash on the sofa? No, Weasley, I don't mind. I'll just get you a quilt."

Bill just shook his head at the headstrong, petite beauty that glided through the door to return a few minutes later.Again the wand was out and before Bill could register what had happened the sofa was longer and broader and he was dressed in green pajamas. A pillow and a quilt were arranged on the Transfigured sofa before he was pushed under the covers and tucked in.  
"By the way, Bill?" she said gesturing behind her as she was in the doorway, framed from behind by the light in the hall, "the bathroom is just down the hall of you need it." With that she turned around and closed the door behind her.  
Fifteen minutes later, one Weasley and one Parkinson were still wondering at the surreal quality of their day.Finally sleep took them and both fell asleep with a half smile on their faces.


	2. Chapter 2

The Floo deposited them in average sized apartment. What it lacked in dimensions it made up in the elegant furnishing. Unfortunately said furnishing were covered in various items that make up a successful party. Elegant ashtrays were strewn everywhere, half full, with the prerequisite trays of finger foods alongside them, at a safe distance. Glasses of all shapes and sizes were the predominant element all around. They were on the various tables, under chairs and if Bill saw correctly there was even one upside down on the candelabra.

Ms Parkinson seemed unconcerned with the mess and simply headed toward the equally messy kitchen. Five minutes later Bill was no longer wondering at his host's nonchalance. After depositing his burden, she had simply whipped her wand out and began casting. Bill could just stare as everything seemed to order itself out quickly and obediently. The lady of the house quite clearly was extremely talented with a wand. No pun intended of course although that was a though.

After making sure everything was as it should be, Pansy Parkinson, heiress to the Parkinson fortune and cosmetic manufacturer extraordinaire simply turned to him and asked in a perfectly serious tone.  
"Tea, Mr. Weasley? Or would you prefer something stronger after the chill outside?"  
Bill could only blink but noticing his host's increasingly more annoyed expression he quickly answered.  
"Thank you, tea would be lovely, with a drop of Firewhiskey in it if possible. And please call me Bill, my father is Mr. Weasley."  
"And you may call me Pansy if you wish. Have you eaten?"  
Not waiting for a response she began to collect some ingredients and in no time, they were enjoying a plate of delicious sandwiches. Finishing his first sandwich Bill wrapped his hands around his mug of strong tea and sipped at it. He sighed as it warmed him from the inside out, the sweetness lingering on his tongue pleasantly.

He resumed eating after Pansy shot him a warning look. Surprisingly it reminded him of his mum. But he though it would be best not to mention that to Pansy. As they set about finishing the sandwiches, the talked about all the inconsequential things strangers usually talk about. The rubbish that the Daily Prophet was, how bad the new Minister was at his job, the new apothecary in Hogsmade that just opened. As they moved to the living room they continued chatting about their respective jobs.

They were both shocked, pleasantly so, by the similarities in their lives. They had both began their careers being very good at their jobs. They were both now bored with said jobs but didn't have a clue what else to do.  
They had both married young, with people they had though perfect for themselves only to end in divorce. Pansy's divorce had caused quite a scandal, even though neither party ever gave the press any interviews. It came as a surprise that Bill's divorce had passed without a fuss.

"It was only because it happened right after the Final Battle, Pansy. There were very little subjects more important or even equally important than that. In a way I'm glad it happened then, less fuss than it could've been. And I don't mean just the press. We could have had children and my mum would have never recovered if she'd lost her grandchildren. The weird thing is I though we were stronger because of what we'd gone through with the war. Apparently not"

A prolonged silence ensued when Bill stopped talking. He stared into the fire, not really thinking about much. He could feel Pansy's assessing gaze on him and after a while turned to find her looking pensive into her empty mug.  
"So, How come you and the Malfoy split up? I'm sorry, it's really none of my business . . ."  
"You're right, Bill, she smiled, it isn't any of your business but if you really want to know I left him".  
"Why? I mean he is handsome, rich and . . ."  
"Yes, well, all beauty is flawed anyway but the real reason is that he is gayer that I am"   
Bill took a moment to let it sink in, before he burst out laughing. There was one thing he hadn't counted on, and that was the wench having sense of humor. Problem was she wasn't laughing, since smirking doesn't count.

So she was either serious, which would mean Draco would be the last Malfoy. And weren't the Malfoy ancestors spinning in their graves right now. Or, and this would be funnier, she had finally had enough of spending less money on clothes than her husband did. He could see it in his mind's eye so clearly that he was sure his face would have a permanent grin from now on. Course, there was nothing wrong with being gay, but the way she'd phrased it had his mind playing scenario after scenarios of female indignation.  
It was well past one in the morning when they realized the time. It had begun to snow outside again and it was working itself into a snowstorm. Not the kind of weather you would send a puppy outside clearly. As Bill scrambled to grab his coat, a small hand landed on his arm. He looked up into Pansy's face to see an amused smile there.  
"Whatever makes you think I'd let you leave in this awful weather I really don't want to know. It's late so you should just crash on the sofa. No, Weasley, I don't mind. I'll just get you a quilt."  
Bill just shook his head at the headstrong, petite beauty that glided through the door to return a few minutes later.

Again the wand was out and before Bill could register what had happened the sofa was longer and broader and he was dressed in green pajamas. A pillow and a quilt were arranged on the Transfigured sofa before he was pushed under the covers and tucked in.  
"By the way, Bill? As he looked up, he noticed her in the doorway, framed from behind by the light in the hall, the bathroom is just down the hall of you need it." With that she turned around and closed the door behind her.  
Fifteen minutes later, one Weasley and one Parkinson were still wondering at the surrealism of their day. Finally sleep took them and both fell asleep with a half smile on their faces.


End file.
